


The Martha Kent Chronicles

by Dolimir



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha Kent is one of my favorite fictional mothers. A long time ago, I joined a community where you were supposed to write one hundred drabbles about a particular Smallville character. I chose Martha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Man Of Her Dreams

Despite the isolation of the farm and the incredibly slow pace of Smallville life, Martha never once regretted her decision to marry Jonathan Kent. She had known the moment she laid eyes on him that she’d be spending the rest of her life by his side. She just wished her father had understood her choice.

Her mother, who had died of a lingering disease when Martha was twelve, had imparted one piece of wisdom that Martha clung to in the early days of her marriage -- don’t let your father stand in the way of true love. While Martha’s mother loved her husband dearly and while he was a brilliant, even feared attorney, he didn’t have a clue about romance or destiny.

So with tears in her eyes, she walked away from the only home she had ever known to join Jonathan in his, because deep in her soul she knew she couldn’t live without the man. They’d create their own family and maybe, after a while, her father would come around.


	2. Nell Potter Can Take Her Blue Ribbon and...

Martha hadn’t been inside the city limits of Smallville more than ten minutes before she had heard an earful about Nell Potter.

 _‘Oh we were so surprised to hear that Jonathan had married a city girl. After all, he dated Nell all through high school. He was the quarterback, you know; and she was the head cheerleader. I do declare they made the cutest couple. We were all sure they’d tie the knot after they graduated. Dearie me, listen to me prattle on like some homegrown busybody. I’m sure you’re a delightful girl. You’d have to be, wouldn’t you? Otherwise you’d never have snagged Jonathan away from Nell.’_

People were kind to her face, but she was aware of the whispering that began the moment they thought she was out of hearing range. Everyone was speculating at how she had managed such a coupe, conveniently forgetting that Jonathan and Nell had broken up before he left for the university.

She thought the whispers would eventually stop, but as the days grew into weeks the tittering continued to grow; in no small part due to Jonathan telling his friends about her initial cooking attempts. It seemed she had forgotten quite a bit from her junior high home economics class.

Although if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that she did find Jonathan and Hiram’s wary approach to the dinner table humorous. She just wished they didn’t feel the need to share her attempts with the town. After all, as several people made sure to tell her, Nell had won a blue ribbon at the county fair for the last two years for her peach cobbler.

She had taken to putting on a brave face whenever they went into town because she didn’t want Jonathan to know that the gossiping was getting to her. She knew she could learn to cook. In fact, she vowed to be the best damn cook in Lowell County. But for now, she just looked for reasons not to go into town.


	3. Winning the Game

Picturing Nell Potter’s condescending smile, Martha minced the onions she was preparing for chili into minute pieces, although the rapid violence of her actions did very little to calm her temper.

How dare Nell imply that Jonathan would eventually come to his senses and--

It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell that two-bit tramp--

She attempted to take a deep breath to calm herself, but it did little to relieve the cold fingers that seemed to be gripping the space around her heart. Growing up in Metropolis, she knew a dozen different ways to shatter Ms. Potter’s practiced perfect pose. One didn’t go to school with children of the rich and powerful without excelling in psychological warfare. But as much as she wanted to shred the insipid woman, she had kept her mouth shut.

Again.

Because of Jonathan.

Actually, for Jonathan.

She wasn’t going to allow one small town hick to turn her into a shrieking fishwife, no matter how much she suspected she’d enjoy the emotional release.

“I’m not blind, you know.”

Martha resisted the urge to stab the knife blade into the wooden cutting board. Instead, she deliberately laid it on the counter before she turned and silently faced her husband.

“Despite what everyone thinks, I never wanted to marry Nell.”

Martha blinked, but remained silent.

“You think she’s bad now, you should have known her in high school. Half the school used to cower every morning when she entered the building.”

An amused huff escaped Martha.

Jonathan took a step toward her. “I married the woman I wanted, Martha Kent. You weren’t a consolation prize, but the brass ring. And if you say the word, we’ll pack up our things and move back to Metropolis.”

“What? Jonathan! No! Hiram can’t run this farm by himself. Why would you even say such a thing?”

“Because as much as I know my father needs my help, I love you more. If you’re unhappy here, then we’ll go somewhere that will make you smile again.”

Martha flung herself into her husband’s open embrace, ignoring the tears that burned her eyes. “I love you so much, Jonathan. So much.”

Strong arms held her tight for what seemed like an eternity. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so safe or so loved.

“So should I break the news to dad?”

Martha shook her head as a laughing sob escaped her. “Of course not, silly. Who’d feed the cows tonight?”

“Martha--”

She stopped him by laying her fingers over his mouth. “I’ll be okay as long as I have you.”

“Then I expect you to be okay for eternity.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

He graced her with the smile that always made her weak in the knees. “I could always talk--”

“No,” she said adamantly. “It’ll work its way out. Eventually.”

He gently pressed his lips to her forehead and she could feel his smile as it reformed. “You know, I have a tree in the south pasture that needs to come down. You could help; that is if you’re looking for a real challenge.”

She playfully pushed him in the chest. “Oh, you!”

“It would probably give you a better fight than those weepy little onions.”

She put her hands on her hips and tried to frown, but failed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” But instead of leaving, he took her back into his arms and kissed her so deeply that it left her breathless. Stepping back, he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and grinned, before disappearing out the back door.

She sighed softly as she leaned back against the counter and fanned herself. Once Hiram went to bed, she decided, she’d give Jonathan a desert so sweet that he’d only be able to give people blank looks when they mentioned Nell’s name in his presence.

Let Potter seethe in her own juices. Martha realized she had already won the game and no amount of snipping would ever change that fact.


	4. Hiram

Hiram Kent was an enigma. Given her father’s reaction to Jonathan, Martha fully expected to be on the receiving end of a rather cool reception. Instead, Hiram regarded her curiously, then gave her a warm hug and told her she was a brave woman.

In the following days, she was touched by Hiram’s gentle patience; whether it be in showing her how to fry pork chops or drive a tractor.

She noticed, however, that Jonathan didn’t necessarily receive the same understanding from his father, nor did he give it. While both men were cordial with each other, even loving, it broke her heart to see the wall between them. She was wise enough to keep her own counsel though, knowing that they were both proud. She contented herself with being a buffer between them, making sure to point out the positive of each to the other every chance she got.

Hiram had a gruff sense of humor, but Martha quickly learned when he was teasing her. She loved his salt-of-the-earth stoicism and knew beneath his bluster was a gentle heart. He often brought her wild flowers from the fields at the end of the day, and found at least one thing to compliment her about her meals as she learned her way around the kitchen. She in turned brought him lemonade when it was hot and learned about tools so she could hand him the right thing when he fixed the tractor.

She even took to bullying him to take his pills and making sure he made his doctor appointments. And if something healthy managed to slip into one of her meals, well, that was okay too. While he complained about her fussing, he always obeyed her, as if tickled that someone cared enough to get after him.

On August 2nd, when he didn’t come down for breakfast, she climbed the steps, intent on giving him heck for oversleeping. But the teasing words froze on her lips as she turned from opening his curtains.

 _Sarah will be so pleased to learn that Jonathan found himself a good woman._

His words from the night before echoed in her ears as she stumbled forward and reached for his wrists. A cry escaped her when she felt his cold hand and she reached for his chest and his neck, desperate to find a pulse she knew wouldn’t be there.

Martha had always prided herself on being in control of her emotions, but as she slowly accepted the truth, she gave herself over to the grief, not only for herself, but for her husband, who hadn’t yet made amends with his father.

The hole in her heart, separate from her love for Jonathan, felt like a growing chasm. Who would she take care of now?


	5. Every Day

There was a certain comfort in monotony. Every day she woke up, took a shower and made breakfast while Jonathan fed the cows. After she cleaned the kitchen, she feed the chickens and searched for eggs. Afterwards, she’d work in the garden for a couple of hours. In the afternoon, if Jonathan didn’t need help, she’d prepare whatever she brought in from the gardens and get ready for the farmer’s market, which they attended every Saturday. Sometimes she’d sew or make small repairs around the house.

Every day was different and presented new challenges.

Every day she woke up and fell asleep to the face of the man she loved.

Every day after dinner, they’d take turns reading stories to each other.

Every day the ache for a child of her own grew more and more painful.


	6. Wishes Like Fallen Stars

Terror like she had never known choked her, but she could do nothing more than helplessly clutch the arm of Jonathan's jacket.

Fireballs weren't supposed to fall out of the sky like some bad science fiction movie. Things like that just didn't happen in real life, especially not in Kansas. Yet as the Smallville city sign exploded into a thousand pieces of tiny shrapnel, she conceded that perhaps sometimes they did.

She felt a sudden wave of shame wash over her as she remembered the unkind thoughts she had about Nell not even an hour earlier. All she had wanted was some white tulips. Still, she offered up a quiet prayer asking for forgiveness, not wanting to meet her maker with the sin of pettiness hanging over her.

She didn't want to distract Jonathan from his driving, but she didn't want to die without telling him one more time how she felt about him. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"What's happening, Jonathan?"

But before he could answer, a fireball ripped across the highway, flinging concrete into the air. Jonathan slammed on the brake, but their speed made it impossible to stop. The wheels locked, sending them skidding into a cloud of dirt and flame. The truck hit something solid in the unnatural darkness, sending the truck tumbling end over end. Little bits of blue stood out in the darkness and blurred with the green stalks of corn until everything went black.

The cacophony of sound seemed to scream in her ears forever, but when it passed, she found the silence to be even louder. There wasn't a muscle in her body that didn't feel bruised, but as much as she hurt, she was happy to realize she was alive.

"Martha?"

Jonathan's voice made her open her eyes. Tulips lay scattered on the roof of the cab. She closed her eyes, trying to reorient herself, but everything was still upside down when she opened them again. She turned her head toward her husband and was surprised to find him not looking at her but outside the truck.

Someone was squatting in the steaming dirt beside the truck. A small someone. A toddler. A boy toddler. A naked boy toddler with no shoes on his feet.

Her first thought was to wonder why he wasn't wearing any clothes. After all they were in the middle of a firestorm and in the middle of a cornfield? Just where in the heck was his mother?

The child smiled at them as if amused by the fact they were hanging upside down.

"Hey, sweetheart." She was surprised by how wobbly her voice sounded. "Are you okay?"

He tilted his head to one side.

"Where's your mama?"

He blinked at her, then smiled. "La. Ra."

In the meantime, Jonathan struggled with his seatbelt. With an unexpected thump he fell to the roof of the truck's cab, smashing several flowers in the process.

The toddler giggled, his grin growing brighter.

Jonathan righted himself, then shuffled toward her on his knees.

"Are you alright, Martha?"

"I think so. Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm in one piece." He inspected her seatbelt. "Let's see about getting you out of here, okay?"

She nodded, even as he positioned himself under her.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

He pushed the seatbelt release and gently eased her onto the roof.

"Why don't you see if you can catch him and I'll see what we can salvage out of the truck."

"Okay." She crawled toward Jonathan's window; thankful she didn't have to crawl over the seat.

The toddler watched her progress with amusement.

She put her hand in the dirt, intent on pulling herself out of the truck, but hissed in pain and jerked her hand back to her chest.

"Martha?" Jonathan laid a hand on the back of her thigh; while the boy's bright green eyes grew wide in distress.

She patted her husband's hand reassuringly, then cleared her throat once so she could make sure her tone was bright. "I'm fine, but the ground is hot."

"Maybe you shouldn't--"

"Jonathan, he doesn't have on any shoes." Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself out of the cab and rolled onto her jean clad knees as soon as she could.

The child looked at her hesitantly, as if unsure what to do. Without thought, she opened her arms. The child's smile returned as he threw himself at her and wrapped his arms around her neck. "La. Ra."

"La ra to you too, sweetheart." She inhaled deeply as she pressed her nose into his neck then rocked back and rose to her feet. "Jonathan? Do we still have the blanket behind the seat?"

She heard her husband grunt and rattle something inside the cab. A moment later an old blanket appeared out of the window. Martha gratefully accepted it and managed to wrap the blanket around the child, even as she shifted from foot to foot, trying to find some relief from the heat seeping through her shoes.

Two minutes later, Jonathan was standing beside her. He ran his fingers through the boy's dark hair as he ran his eyes up and down Martha, as if assuring himself that she really was okay. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss, then nodded to their left.

"There's a path of some sort."

He looked at her curiously.

"We need to make sure his parents are okay."

Understanding immediately flooded his face. Jonathan held out his hands, silently asking her if she wanted him to carry the child, but she shook her head and squeezed the boy ever-so-slightly, causing him to sigh happily against her shoulder.

They walked nearly forty yards, but found nothing. Where in the world had the child come from?

"It's like he appeared out of nowhere," she said aloud, although more to herself than to Jonathan.

Jonathan shook his head in affectionate exasperation. "Kids don't just fall out of the sky, Martha."

"Then where did he come from?"

"I don't know, but he must have parents."

They both stopped in awe as they crested a small mound of dirt and saw a metal pod buried at the bottom. Martha blinked. Maybe Kansas did science fiction after all, she thought with amusement. After all, that certainly looked like a space ship. "Well, if he does, they're definitely not from Kansas."

Could the child have come out of the spacecraft? If he did, was he alone? Where was he from? Why was he sent here? What would happen if the government found him? Someone was going to have to protect him? If the government even suspected that an alien had landed...she didn't even want to contemplate the ramifications of that thought.

Jonathan stopped and looked at her, sadness and amusement warring in his expression. "Sweetheart, we can't keep him."

"Why not?" she asked defiantly.

"What are we going to tell people? That we found him in a cornfield?"

Martha looked at the sweet face of the little boy in her arms, then at her husband. "We didn't find him, Jonathan. He found us."


	7. Destiny

Martha’s brain was spinning. In less than three hours, Smallville appeared to have been decimated by giant fireballs; she and Jonathan had survived a crash which totaled their truck; they had found an alien child and his spaceship; had found their neighbor, Teddy, dead inside of his truck along the side of the road; had managed to wrangle the space craft into the back of their newly confiscated truck next to the body of their former friend, and had been flagged down by a man who was in a panic over his critically wounded son.

It was too much to process.

The alien toddler sat in her lap, happily looking at the passing countryside, oblivious to the chaos around them.

The stranger beside her looked vaguely familiar, and she suspected that on any other day she would have been able to place him. He was dressed in a sinfully expensive suit, which automatically told her he wasn’t from Smallville. She had a vague recollection of overhearing a conversation at church -- Abby Ross had told someone that her husband’s family was thinking of selling their creamed corn plant to a business entity in Metropolis. She wondered if this was the man brokering the deal. Whether he was or not, he had certainly picked a bad day to bring his son to the country.

“Can we go any faster?”

Martha knew the gentleman was terrified for his son, but his voice was imperious; a man used to people dropping everything to do his bidding.

Jonathan gritted his teeth in irritation. “We’re doing the best we can.”

The man glanced over his shoulder and into the back of the truck. “What are you carrying back there? It’s slowing us down.”

Jonathan opened his mouth to respond, but Martha silenced him by putting her hand on his thigh. He nodded and focused on the litter-strewn road ahead of them.

The child in her arms looked over at the injured boy. His near baldness made it almost impossible to estimate his age. He was younger than a teenager, but older than the toddler. The one tuft of red hair left on his head indicated that he hadn’t been bald before the firestorm. His shaking body was curled into his father’s chest and Martha had no idea if the boy would survive or not.

As if responding to her thoughts, the boy opened his eyes and focused on the toddler in her lap. The toddler leaned forward and gently touched the boy’s head. He then ran his hand down to his cheek as if silently promising that things were going to be okay. The boy smiled briefly, then lapsed once again into unconsciousness.

Martha prayed the boy would survive. The agony on his father’s face was almost too much to bear. She couldn’t imagine surviving the pain involved with losing a child and could only hope that this man would never know such a loss.


	8. The Vow

She had once been told never to speak something under the stars that she didn’t want heard. Thus, the inverse had to be true, too, she reasoned.

On crisp autumn nights when the moon was full and the sky was cloudless, she would wait until Jonathan was asleep, grab her jacket and walk into the newly plowed fields and gaze up into the heavens.

“I don’t know your fate, my sister, but I found your heart in a field. I will honor your sacrifice and guide him the best I can. He will be a testament for both of us.”


	9. Little Miracles

“Stay in the truck.” Jonathan cast a nervous glance at the businessman and his wounded son. While his voice was soft, his eyes were hard, willing Martha to understand his silent warning.

She nodded and squeezed the toddler a little closer to her chest. God only knows what the medical staff could discover if they started poking and prodding the boy.

Climbing out of the cab, Jonathan walked around the truck and took great care opening the passenger door; however, a guttural panicked whimper still escaped the barely conscious boy.

“It’ll be okay.” Without asking permission, Jonathan gently took the bald boy into his arms and cradled him against his chest. “That’s right. That’s my brave boy. It won’t be much longer. We’re almost inside. It’ll be better once we’re inside.”

Keeping up his commentary, Jonathan turned and walked toward the hospital’s crowded emergency room entrance. The boy’s father sat in momentary shock, then nodded once to Martha in silent thanks and scrambled after the pair.

As soon as the door closed, the toddler started to get restless and she loosened her grip, allowing him to explore the cab. An old lullaby tune floated through her memory and she hummed it as she watched him touch the metal of the dashboard. The toddler stopped his investigation and leaned back into her lap, cuddling against her chest and watching her face with wide green eyes.

If it wasn’t for the spaceship in the back of the truck, Martha could almost believe he was a human child. He had ten fingers and ten toes and he was totally proportionate for a toddler. His hair could stand to be cut, but other than that he looked like every other child she knew. The toddler reached up and touched her lips as she hummed. Martha laughed, then made a game out of kissing his fingers.

“What would you say if I told you I wanted to keep you? Would you be shocked?”

“La Ra.” The boy giggled then sighed happily as he settled in her arms.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. When she straightened in her seat, she saw Jonathan walking toward the truck; however, he didn’t stop like she expected. Instead, he walked to the pickup bed.

Manny. She had forgotten about Manny. There had been so much death and destruction around them, but Martha couldn’t seem to focus on loss. All she could see was the gift God had given her and Jonathan. This child was truly a miracle. It didn’t matter whether they had a home to go home to or not; all her hopes and dreams were currently sleeping in her arms.

Now all she had to do was convince Jonathan to see the miracle as well.


	10. Happy

“What’s this?”

“Spoon.”

“And this?”

“Pwate.”

“And this?”

“Mmmmm…”

“You can do it.”

“Mmmmmkkkkk.”

“Milk.”

“Melk?”

“Milk.”

“Milk.”

“That’s right,” Martha said encouragingly.

Clark smiled brilliantly at her.

Martha pointed to her chest. “And who am I?”

“Mama!”

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am.”


	11. Like Stars

Heart thumping in her throat and whispering every prayer she knew, Martha quickly made her way down the stairs. A part of her wondered why she hadn’t awoken Jonathan and the only explanation she could come up with was if Jon was awake, her terror would be real. At least this way, she could pretend for a few more minutes.

She stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs, slapping her hand over her mouth in an effort to keep her cry of relief inside.

Clark was lying underneath the Christmas tree, studying the blinking lights above him, but making no effort to disturb them.

As quietly as she could, she got down on her hands and knees and crawled beside him. When she was at his side, she lay down and looked up at the lights, trying to see what he found so fascinating.

When her heart returned to its normal rhythm, she turned her head and looked over at him. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

Clark grinned and nodded. “Pretty quenars, mama.”

Martha blinked. It had been a little over two months since he had arrived in their lives and while it was obvious that Clark understood them and was trying to respond to her and Jonathan in his lyrical, yet alien speech patterns, they couldn’t understand him. He had, however, managed to pick up a handful of English words, but this was the first time he had ever called her mama.

It was all she could do to keep from shouting with happiness. “Yes, they are pretty, Clark. But I think it’s bedtime now.”

He yawned hugely and nodded. Pushing herself off the floor, she swooped him up into her arms as she stood. Clark giggled happily, settling his head against his shoulder and sighing softly.

“Nar crax pretty quenars, mama?”

“Yes, sweetheart. We can look at the lights tomorrow too.”


	12. First Christmas

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

Curious green eyes blinked up at her.

Martha tapped the gift, encouragingly. “It’s a Christmas present, Clark. Go ahead and open it.”

The waif looked down at the box in his hands, then hugged it tightly to his chest while he flashed her an adoring smile. When Clark finally relaxed his grip, she guided his hand to an untaped tab and showed him how to rip the pretty wrapping paper. His eyes grew wide with alarm, but she soothed him before the tears reached his eyes.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. The good stuff is inside. Trust me.”


	13. Leaves

With the rake in one hand, Martha straightened, reveling in the crisp October afternoon air. She surveyed the yard and was satisfied with the job she had done. The huge pile of leaves in front of her called out for mischief, but she knew, looking at the timid, dark haired, four year old, sitting and watching her with adoring green eyes, that he would never presume to do anything so rash.

She wiggled her fingers at him. "Come here, Clark."

He shuffled toward her, curious.

Setting him in the middle of leaves, she whispered, "Jump, sweetheart."

Laughing infectiously, he obeyed.


	14. Fairy Tales

“After the prince rescued the princess, he took her back to his kingdom and they lived happily ever after.”

“Mama?”

“Yes, Clark.”

“If I ever get in trouble, will a prince rescue me?”

Martha smiled at her five-year-old son and mussed his hair. “I think you’re going to grow up to be a prince, sweetheart.”

“But who rescues princes who get into trouble?”

Martha bussed a kiss to his cheek. “Their mothers.”

Clark giggled, but sobered quickly. “No really, Mama. Who?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“Well, if I get into trouble, I want a prince to rescue me too.”


	15. Being A Mom

Martha discovered very quickly that Clark didn't like to be left by himself. The shy toddler followed her no matter where she went and would become fussy if he couldn't see her - not that he ever cried, but it broke her heart to see him so sad. He became her constant companion, whether she was cooking in the kitchen, hanging clothes out on the line or grocery shopping in town. He watched her with adoring green eyes and radiated a contentment which warmed her heart and filled her soul.

Being a mom was even better than she ever dared dream.


	16. Not From Around Here

Bored, the four year old pushed a kitchen chair over to the stove and climbed up to watch the water boil, fascinated by the roiling liquid and rising steam. Reaching forward, he put his hand in the pot, giggling when the bubbles tickled his hand.

"Clark!"

The boy wailed as his mother raced him to the sink and stuck his hand under the cold water. After several minutes, she pulled his hand out and examined it.

He watched as she closed her eyes in relief.

"I keep forgetting you're not from around here, sweetheart."

He smiled, knowing he was forgiven.


	17. Try A Little Gentleness

Clark’s green eyes shone brightly with excitement. “So once I can hold an egg without breaking it, you’ll let me hold a chick?”

Martha ruffled her son’s hair. “That’s right, sweetheart. Now hold out your hand.”

When Clark had complied, Martha placed an egg in the center of his palm.

“It’s light, Mama.”

“I know. Now I want you to very gently put your other hand over the egg.”

Martha could tell by the distress on Clark’s face the exact second the egg cracked.

“That’s okay, baby. We have a lot of eggs. Let’s wash your hands and try again.”


	18. Broken

Martha climbed the barn stairs to Clark’s Fortress of Solitude. Her eyes burned with unshed tears when she spotted the huddled figure sobbing in the corner.

His cherub face turned toward her as soon as he became aware of her presence. “I’m sorry, mama. I’m sorry.”

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” she whispered, kneeling beside the quivering six year old and wrapping him in her arms.

“This means I can’t go to Pete’s birthday party, doesn’t it?”

“Clark--”

“What if I say I don’t want any punch?”

“Oh, baby,” she said softly, knowing she was about to break his heart.


	19. Beyond Gold

“Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Martha’s voice broke and she lost herself in a coughing fit. When it passed, she discovered her seven year old son by the side of her bed, his green eyes wide with distress.

“I’m okay, baby.”

Clark’s chin jutted out, semi-defiantly. “You don’t sound okay to me.”

She had to agree. “I do sound sort of yucky.”

Clark nodded emphatically and Martha bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing, for she knew she’d only cough again if she did. “It’s just a cold, honey.”

“You’re not going to die, are you?”

Her first instinct was to tease him, but when she saw the tears dulling his eyes, she took his hand and pulled him onto the bed beside her. Clark moved willingly, tucking his head between her arm and her chest and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“No, Clark, I’m not going to die. I just have a virus. I’ll be as good as new if a few days.”

After a few moments of silence, Clark lifted his head and looked at her. “How come I never get any vir-virr--?”

“Viruses?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you’re my special boy.”

“Does that mean you’re not special?”

“No. It means I’m special in a different way.”

Clark’s frown transformed into a brilliant smile. “Like how you always know what to do and say?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.”

Martha could tell by the relief in his voice that the crisis had passed. “So, you want to stay in here and take a nap with me?”

Clark nodded and cuddled closer and Martha pressed her lips to his forehead. Never having to worry about Clark getting sick was wonderful. Being able to cuddle with her son when she was no doubt contagious was priceless beyond words.


	20. Sleeping On The Couch

"Jonathan Kent!"

Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut and flinched slightly, even as he released a sigh of resignation. His wife's tone warned that she wasn't going to see the humor in their current situation. While he had always taught Clark there were consequences to any action, he had really been counting on Martha not being home for another four hours.

"What did you give him?"

"Give him?"

Martha's eyes narrowed and Jonathan swallowed nervously. "The barn is completely painted inside and out and the stalls and work areas are so clean that you could eat off the floor. I repeat, what did you give him."

"Clark wanted to try a new type of pop."

"Jonathan, you know better than--" She stopped abruptly and Jonathan knew exactly which question was coming next. "What sort of pop?"

"Now, honey, don't--"

"Jonathan!"

"Um. Jolt Cola."


	21. Typical

“I’m really leaving.”

“I know you are.”

“I’ll be gone forever.”

“Then you better take your jacket.”

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“On the contrary, I’m taking you very seriously.”

“You’re going to miss me.”

“I know I am.”

“All right then. Good-bye.”

“Clark.”

“Yes?”

“You remember you’re not allowed to cross the street.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And that you’re not allowed out after dark.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s five o’clock now.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe you should leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that would be better.”

“I think so too.”

“But I really am going to leave then.”

“I know you will, sweetheart.”


	22. Just Once

Being a mother was a big responsibility. It meant teaching not only by words, but by actions as well. Martha prided herself in teaching Clark to be the bigger man, to resist the temptation to strike out in spite. She knew it wasn’t an easy way to live, but it was the right one. For years, Nell had taken swipes at Martha for marrying _her_ boyfriend, and for years Martha had pretended not to understand the innuendo or simply didn’t respond.

However, Martha was fairly certain that God would forgive her one little poke.

“So, a used car salesman, huh?”


	23. Surprise

“Lex?”

The heir to the Luthor fortune hesitated, his hand still on the doorknob behind him. “Mrs. Kent, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“Obviously. What were you doing in my office?”

“I…uh…” Lex swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes.

“I thought we agreed my office was neutral territory.”

“We did.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can step right back in there until we get this straightened out.”

Lex sighed, then opened the door for her.

Martha’s eyes widened as she took in the giant bouquet on her desk. Tulips. Red tulips. “Oh, Lex,” she whispered when she realized that Sunday was Mother’s Day.

“I just wanted to thank you for your kindness.” He tried to act casual, but she saw the little boy in his eyes.

“They’re perfect,” she said as she turned and hugged him close.


	24. Just A Boy

"Lex, are you okay?"

Lex raised his head off his crossed arms and blinked in confusion. "Mrs. Kent? What...what are you doing here?"

Martha moved around the desk and gently put her hand on the young man's shoulder as he struggled to focus on the conversation at hand. "I came to pick up a few things for your father."

"You're still working for my father?" Lex asked incredulously. He blushed slightly, raising his hands to indicate that she had no obligation to answer his question.

"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "We haven't really discussed it...given the circumstances."

Lex straightened in his chair, then rose and walked woodenly toward the credenza. "Forgive my impetuousness, Mrs. Kent, but I would find myself remiss if I didn't give you this bit of unsolicited advice." He turned away from her and pour some scotch into a crystal glass. "You would be well advised to stay as far away from my family as you possibly can. If I thought for a moment you'd take me up on it, I'd give you the money to relocate, to take Clark and Mr. Kent and leave Smallville before the Luthors can harm you in any further way."

"Lex..."

He raised his left hand to stall her comment, even as he took a quick sip of the throat burning liquid. "You are, of course, welcomed to take anything you think my father will need."

Martha nodded and moved toward the double doors, then stopped in her tracks and turned back to face him. "While your father does have a certain...reputation, shall we say, you are not your father. People depend on you and you've always come through for them. You've done good things here in Smallville."

Lex shrugged. "Your husband would disagree."

"Jonathan is a...cautious man."

Lex's smile had nothing to do with amusement. He took another swig of liquor. "Your son would disagree as well."

"Clark?"

The glass thunked noisily on the credenza. Lex picked the bottle up again and poured himself a double.

"What did Clark do?"

Putting the elegant glass stopper back in the crystal decanter, Lex raised an eyebrow. "Clark didn't _do_ anything. He just reminded me that my past is far from pure. In a sense, reinforced the thought that I am my father's son."

 _It's not like I haven't seen you shoot someone before._

The words echoed in Lex's head and he closed his eyes against their truth.

"Lex, Clark is..."

"Just a boy," Lex whispered. He moved back to his desk, set his glass on an elegant coaster and sat back in his chair. "I know."

Martha frowned, then closed the distance between them. "Has it ever occurred to you that you are also ‘just a boy’?"

Lex returned her frown, but before he could speak, she reached out and gently cupped his chin. "You're twenty-three years old, Lex. Most boys your age are just graduating from college, not running multimillion dollar companies, not fighting hostile corporate takeovers. They're trying to figure out what to do with their lives."

It took ounce of self-control for Lex not to lean into the comforting warmth of Martha's hand. "While my lot in life has been different..."

Martha gently shushed him. "You're still young enough to have your feelings hurt by a careless remark by your best friend; boy or not."

Lex blinked once, unsure what to say. A part of him railed against such sentimental nonsense, while another part of him quivered at suddenly finding itself thrust into the bright light of introspection. "Don't..." he whispered.

Martha dropped her hand to her side. "Don't what?"

"Don't try to save me," he croaked.

"Lex-"

"No!" he shouted, pushing the chair back a couple of feet. "Your husband is correct, Mrs. Kent. The seed doesn't fall very far from the tree. I am Lionel Luthor's son. We taint everything we touch. It's okay to let me go. I've accepted my fate."

"I can't."

"Can't or won't," Lex all but sneered.

"Both. Neither," she said with a quiet sigh of exasperation. "You haven't accepted your fate anymore than I've decided to ditch my family and become an exotic dancer in Las Vegas."

Lex quirked an eyebrow at her and fought hard not to smile, but Martha saw the amusement in his eyes and chuckled. She sobered quickly though. "Why do you personally stop by the farm to talk to Clark, when you could use your cell phone? Why do you place orders in person instead of having one of your assistants do it?"

Lex opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Because you like our family."

Lex's face hardened. "I don't _like_ your family, Mrs. Kent. I envy it, which is one of the seven deadly sins, isn't it? Just another step down the path? Don't you realize by now that what a Luthor can't have, he'll just destroy in order to keep anyone else from having it."

"Is that why you killed Nixion?"

Lex felt his face go slack with disbelief.

Martha put both hands on the arms of Lex's chair and leaned forward. "We both know my family has secrets. Some of them are tied in with your family's, some are not. We both know that Nixion was going to expose our secrets, secrets you wanted to know. And yet, you gave up your chance of learning them in order to protect my husband and my son."

"Your son..."

Martha stood and paced to the built in bookcase. "Clark's father was in jail for a crime he didn't commit. He was terrified and grasping at straws. While Clark is mature in many ways, he won't be capable of running multimillion dollar company when he's twenty-three, and he's certainly not above being a teenager in moments of stress."

"But-"

She turned and held his gaze with her own. "You're his best friend, Lex. And like you, he struggles with his own burdens. But he won't...we won't, ever turn our backs on you."

"You should. I'll only bring you pain in the end." Lex dropped his gaze. "I've seen my future...it's not..."

“So change it.”

“Would that I could.”

“Have you tried?”

Lex chuckled. “What do you think the last two years have been about?”

“About succeeding, about controlling your destiny.”

Sorrow welled up within Lex’s chest. “For every step forward I seem to make, I get dragged back three. My father is winning, Mrs. Kent. The only reason he hasn’t won so far is because...”

“Is because you can’t bear to see the look of disappointment on Clark’s face,” Martha said knowingly.

Lex placed his elbows on the desk, then leaned forward and ran both hands over his bald scalp. “He saved me when I thought I was unsalvageable. He gave me a second chance and asked nothing in return. He opened his world to me for nothing more than the joy of sharing it.” Lex didn’t look at Martha as he spoke. “And yet, despite all your family’s kindnesses I find myself making the same mistakes as my father, as if my destiny had already been forged in unbending steel.”

Martha once again closed the distance between them. “The Kents have a special affinity with steel. We’re not turning our backs on you, Lex.”

Lex opened his mouth to speak, but Martha gently placed a finger over his lips. “We’re not giving up on you, Lex.”  
“Promise?”

With that softly spoken plea escaping his lips, Martha wrapped her arms around the boy who was only a few years older than her son, a boy who was desperate for his father’s love, who had faced constant rejection at the hands of her own husband, just for a glimpse of what could have beens. How could she turn her back on him. “I promise,” she vowed.

He stayed rigid and unbending in his chair for nearly a full minute, but Martha never loosened her grip on him. She felt the exact moment his defenses melted. A second later, his arms wrapped around her waist and held on to her as if he were drowning. In some ways, she supposed he was.

She knew the possible consequences of making such a promise, but her heart couldn’t watch this stoic boy fight his battle by himself any longer. She had kept one boy fifteen years ago, and even though there was another child on the way, she made the decision to keep this one as well.

She knew Jonathan would balk, but she also knew she’d eventually win. She always did. No one came between a mama goose and her goslings.


	25. Thanks

“Lex, come in,” she greets as she’s done a thousand times. “Clark’s in the barn doing his chores.”

“I know.”

Martha stops mixing her dough as the quiet pain-filled voice penetrates her thoughts. She looks up and has the brief thought that Luthors shouldn’t be able to look so vulnerable.

“Lex?”

“I wanted to thank you…”

“Thank me?”

“For all your kindnesses. Since my mother died…” He looks embarrassed. “Just…thank you…for seeing me and not my father.”

With that, he turns and leaves.

Martha set the bowl on the counter. “Oh, Clark,” she whispers to herself. “What have you done?”


	26. The End Of A Dream

Martha gasped as the shock wave sped toward them.

 _“What do you think about Hannah, after your mother, Jonathan?”_

The tires screamed, seeking purchase on the pavement.

 _“Go ahead and hold her, Clark. You won’t hurt her.”_

Time slowed as the truck flipped; the seatbelt pulled tightly across her chest and lap.

 _“Clark’s been teaching you how to do the puppy dog eyes, hasn’t he?”_

Windows shattered and glass sprayed inward, cutting everything in its path.

 _“You look just like a fairy princess, sweetheart. But you know what you need? A wand, so you can grant wishes.”_

Or maybe not.


	27. Loss

She remembers when all she wanted was a child of her own, flesh of her flesh. She remembers making a wish and being tapped by a fairy princess. She remembers the joy of having her desire become real in the middle of a cornfield, wide-eyed and innocent, with a smile just this side of mischievous. She remembers teaching him to speak and his peals of bright laughter floating in the summer afternoon breeze. She remembers his face, his warm arms, and his desire to please her.

Jonathan weeps for what will never be.

She weeps for what she has lost.


	28. Searching

Hearing the pickup pull into the driveway, Martha poured coffee into Jonathan’s favorite mug and set it on the table, then filled her own thermos. She moved around the kitchen, barely awake, gathering the items she would take with her.

A single truck door slammed outside and she closed her eyes to ward off the pain; not that she had expected anything different. Anger burned within her, as it did every morning, but the heat of the emotion had dulled over time as had her expectation of finding her son alive and well.

But that didn’t keep them from looking


	29. Linens

Martha stood beside the back door and stared out at the frozen pasture, beautifully stark in the crisp morning light; all traces of the wind that had whipped so furiously around the house only hours before gone. She lifted her coffee mug to her lips, sipped perfunctorily, but didn’t register the taste of the liquid as it slipped past her lips.

She thought briefly of helping Clark with the morning chores, after all, she had helped Jonathan…

Bracing herself with one hand against the door, she closed her eyes and carefully released a slow breath through her teeth, viciously clamping down on the sob welling up within her. If Clark heard her…

Shaking her head viciously, she managed to gather control of her emotions, then turned from the door, placed her mug on the work table, and moved into the laundry room.

Chores were just what she needed to keep her mind from roaming.

The green plastic laundry basket sat on the top of the dryer, full of sheets that needed cleaning. She carefully measured the detergent, then flung it carelessly into the washer’s basin before turning on the water.

She picked up the fitted sheet and held it to her nose, breathing in deeply. Jonathan’s earthy smell still clung to the fabric and she found herself hugging the sheet tightly to her chest.

For a moment, she allowed herself to picture her husband as he turned over in bed, smiling gently at her as she burrowed deeper into her blankets. Allowed herself to feel his warm dry lips brush over her forehead and nip her nose. Allowed herself to hear his voice, whispering in bemusement, “Morning, beautiful.”

But Clark was in the barn and would be back momentarily and she realized she hadn’t even started breakfast. Carefully, deliberately, she put the sheet back into the basket and turned off the water filling the washing basin.

The linens could be washed tomorrow. Right now, she had to feed her son.


	30. Forgiveness

Over the years, she and Jonathan had been so frightened by the prospect of someone learning Clark's secrets that they had become quite adapt at the art of misdirection and lying. Clark followed their leads, although he never did it quite as gracefully. She liked to think it said good things about the way they raised him.

She watched their lies drive a wedge between Clark and Lex. She understood that their fear had destroyed something which should've been considered precious to the two men.

The shame of those lies ate at her, and she wondered how God would judge them.

After Jonathan died, white tulips arrived at her house every Monday morning like clockwork. It took her a while, but she finally discovered who was sending them.

Maybe, just maybe, forgiveness was still possible, not just for her but for Clark as well.


	31. Human Kindness

Lex wasn’t used to people being kind to him without wanting something in return. He had long ago accepted that his father’s position and money led to a certain amount of brown-nosing. And depending upon the day and occasion, he was either amused or disgusted by such antics.

What he wasn’t used to were people being kind to him even when they were mad. While blue bloods looked down their noses at blue collars, he had been slapped more often and had more glasses of champagne poured on him than any good old boy ever dreamed.

He knew he confused Martha Kent by always showing up on her doorstep after he and Clark had had a fight, but as long as she continued to invite him in and offer him a glass of lemonade and a slice of whatever she was cooking at the moment, he would continue to come – just to prove to himself that kindness still existed.


	32. The Letter 'S'

Clark looked at the dark uniform spread over the kitchen table. “It looks a lot better than the one made out of primary colors,” he conceded.

Martha smiled and nodded, pleased.

“What’s with the ‘S’ though?”

Lex straightened in the doorway. “It’s based on Alexander the Great’s crest, to remind you that while you choose to serve mankind that it is a choice, that you have the strength and courage to make hard decisions.”

“Mom?”

“It’s also for ‘Scarecrow’ to remind you that with great power comes responsibility and compassion.”

Clark nodded in understanding. “Balance in all things. It’s perfect.”


	33. A Happy Life

Martha had loved Jonathan with all her heart, but living on the farm had never been easy. It seemed they were always managing to stay just one step ahead of the bank and foreclosure. And, of course, there was Nell Potter, Jonathan’s high school sweetheart, who could never seem to stop herself from taking verbal jabs at the woman who married the man everyone thought she should have married.

When Clark was little, she was incredibly happy, but it was always tinged with worry. What if someone found out that Clark was different, that he wasn’t from Earth? The worry turned to fear when he became a teenager and his powers started manifesting themselves. Couple his powers with meteorite infected teenagers coming into their own powers and, well, fear was basically her constant companion for several years.

After Jonathan died, she truly believed she would never experience happiness again. But if there was one thing life with Jonathan had taught her, it was that when things got dark, you put your nose to the grindstone and work until it got better. And so she did.

Now, she was a U.S. Senator and had taken the alias of the Red Queen. Heck, she was even dating again. Life might not be idyllic like it once was, but she could honestly say she was happy. Clark was a grown up and was forging his own path in life. She had the position and power to protect him and other super heroes from snoopy government agencies. And Perry White treated her like a queen.

Her life was nothing like she had dreamed of when she was a little girl.

It was better.


End file.
